


Blue jeans

by Captain_Mercurian



Series: Blue [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Cheating, Hooker!Peter, Imagine whoever you want as Killians wife, M/M, married!killian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2495072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Mercurian/pseuds/Captain_Mercurian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” the boy asked obviously annoyed; Killian looked up and arched an eyebrow at him not being able to summon the energy to even ask what he meant this time; “Thinking of her, I mean.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue jeans

Killian didn’t love her. He really didn’t.

Nonetheless he felt bad for her as she started to obviously grow uncomfortable with Peter swaggering around as if he'd always been there, treating her like _she_ was the one intruding Killian's life, and leaving a mess behind. It’s been almost two weeks since he took the boy in; though, the blizzard was gone long ago. Peter didn’t try to leave, whereas, Killian didn’t even mention the weather to not have to point out that he was staying for far too long now. He didn’t want the boy to go and stray on the streets—hungry and lost like a rat. Also, Killian didn’t want to be left alone with a woman he didn’t love; especially, without any distraction to keep his self busy so he wouldn’t have to act affectionate with her.

Besides, Peter’s presence in the bedroom next to theirs was a perfect excuse to avoid any sexual intimacy with her. ‘He might hear us,’ he would say while tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘No teenage boy should witness something like that especially not with near strangers.’  
 _Oh, the Irony_. Almost biting his tongue when those words left his mouth; he felt plagued by guilt and fear of her seeing through his lies. He could swear that he heard the boy’s laughter in the next room, obviously amused by a falsehood that wasn’t funny at all.

Sometimes he wished that the boy was exactly that: a mere boy, innocent and young, falling in love with girls or boys his age, and struggling with nothing else; but his homework and puberty. That way he would have never met him and his life would be the way it was before Peter decided to turn it upside-down; he would be satisfied with his job and his wife he never particularly fancied, but never despised either. Everything in slight had been easy until Peter had shown him what love and attraction actually was, triggering something inside Killian’s cold and uncaring heart. Before him he never felt anything that strong for anyone, though, he didn’t even know what it was that made him feel this way with the boy.

Was it the broken expression behind his smile and his eyes? The fragility and the weakness he only ever showed once in a while when Killian’s touch ended up being soft and affectionate? Was it the sadness behind those green gems that captivated him and made him wish he could take that sorrow out of his pretty face? Or was it the blue hue of his skin when he was found, causing his self to lay his arms around him and make him warm? Was it the way Peter had clung to him that day when he first kissed him, melting the ice that had protected Killian’s heart (and easy life) for so long?  
He couldn’t tell, for love was blind and irrational.

His wife must have been just as blind, too, to fall for a cheating and lying scum as him.

It became even worse as the winter holidays came to an end, since he had been right with his presumption of Peter not attending any school at all. But the boy was clever as he whispered a suggestion into his ear to prevent himself from being thrown out into the street. Killian hesitated at first, but gave in anyway; he agreed to drive Peter to ‘school’ every morning so he could keep him in his office the whole day.  
Telling his colleagues that the boy had been sent from the local high school to gain some work experience, Killian managed to keep him busy all day. At first he thought the boy would be lazy and trying to seduce him in the privacy of his office, protected from any witnesses; but he had been wrong as Peter proved to be capable of working diligently. He did what he was told to and chatted with the other workers on their breaks. It seemed so natural, so normal, that he felt his heart ache for this to be a constant reality.

Things got a little awkward when Thomas Barrow – Peter’s supposed father – returned from his business trip not having a clue why Peter cheekily called him ‘Dad’ at their very first encounter.  
“You look like my dad,” he had chuckled amused not caring about the fact that no one else besides Killian knew what was so funny. Killian on the other hand felt his chest clench with fear deeply hoping that his wife wouldn’t find out of his return; even though, his fear was pretty ungrounded since she had no connections to anyone from his work. Still the thought was nagging in the back of his head, reminding him constantly of the amount of lies he had to keep track of in order not to reveal his web of falsehood. If he failed he would find himself forced to tell her about the adultery he committed so unashamedly right in front of her nose (at least mentally since he hadn’t touched the boy for at least four months).

His face must’ve shown his thoughts and concerns after their lunch break was over and he seated himself back behind his desk. Peter had followed him into his office, probably waiting for his next task while he leaned back in his chair, not speaking a word. He felt the boy’s gaze boring into him as he stared forward lost in his thoughts; his inner fear and the guilt that was tugging at his interior trying to rip him apart from the inside.  
“What’s the matter?” the boy asked with an unusual cheerful voice; “Imagining your wife scratching your eyes out, or what?”  
He laughed; though, his smile faded as Killian didn’t answer and just began to chew at his lower lip nervously.

“Are you serious?” Peter asked disbelievingly and jumped on his desk, pushing a pile of documents out of the way to place his butt on their former spot. “You’re paranoid as hell, aren’t you?”  
Arching an eyebrow at the boy’s lack of carefulness towards his paperwork, he felt his heart sink even a little more. Not only at his careless behavior towards his documents, but even his easygoing way to talk about their little secret reminded him of his young age.  
Damn, he really felt disgusting now.

“She used to bring me lunch, you know,” he mumbled and leaned back in his office chair looking at Peter with sad eyes. “Horrible cook, my dear wife; but I appreciated the effort anyway. Sometimes I was still busy when she arrived, so she’d talk to some of my colleagues. Thomas is a chatterbox, gossiping like a damn woman. I am not sure if they even know each other, but I’ve been kind of ignoring her for a while now and maybe…”

His nervous mumbling came to a halt as Peter raised a perfect eyebrow warily, obviously unconcerned, though, he was aware of the irritated twitch in the gesture. The annoyance had been written all over the boy’s pretty face the moment he mentioned his former appreciation towards her. Generally, he seemed to get jealous with only a simple remark of anything good about her, be it her beauty or her sole status as Killian’s wife. Peter only ever talked about her in a mocking, disdainful kind of way as if it was his duty to remind him of every single flaw and to convince him to finally leave her. He wasn’t sure; after all he didn’t even quite get what he was to the boy.

Sometimes it felt like he was genuinely in love with the man, trying to get his attention and make him see what he could not have with her; but then Killian would look into the mirror and meet the tired, worn down gaze of his own cerulean eyes. He would see a few gray hairs, probably caused by his constant distress with his wife, and he would think of the boy’s youth. Their age gap was immense and Peter’s occupation didn’t help with trying to believe the sincerity of the feelings he could have—as well pretended to have.  
Yeah, maybe he was a little paranoid.

“You’re right,” he sighed and reached up to massage his temple with closed eyes; “She’s not going to come here. Those times have been over for far too long now.”  
Though he never loved her, he found himself becoming a little bit nostalgic when thinking about the times in which at least she had been madly in love with him. They were like best friends back then, caring for each other and enjoying their company, joking and laughing and singing while doing the dishes. The sex never had been exciting with her; he always preferred those nights in which he just massaged her shoulders after a long, hard day at work and cuddled up with her in their bed; for her proximity both mental and bodily had felt nice.

Peter hadn’t been his first escapade, but he hadn’t ever cared for anyone of those hookers whose faces and names were long since forgotten. They had been nothing like the boy, shallow grown-ups with cold eyes and movements as unpassionate as from a rusty machine. They were somewhat flirty and one or two even seemed to be not that reluctant to be fucked by him, but not one of them was even close to what Peter was to him.  
Before the boy, Killian never had experienced passion or something similar as romantic love with anyone except maybe with his older neighbor when he was still a child, but that innocent crush hardly counted.  
This was truly the first time he ever seriously fell in love with anyone and he felt ashamed for his first love was wasted on a teenage prostitute.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” the boy asked obviously annoyed; Killian looked up and arched an eyebrow at him not being able to summon the energy to even ask what he meant this time; “Thinking of _her_ , I mean.”

“Actually no,” he simply said and reclined his head to have a better look at those beautiful irises with this deliciously _jealous_ spark behind them; “I wasn’t thinking about her.”  
Well, at least not anymore; but he didn’t have to know that.  
Peter didn’t seem convinced, though. “So?” he snapped slightly irritated; “What were you thinking about then?”  
Killian returned his gaze, anxious to not reveal any of his thoughts or feelings and relishing on how edgy the boy became the longer he stayed torturously silent.

As Peter started to chew at the inside of his cheek he finally broke the silence: “ _You_.”

His baffled expression was beautiful as Killian smirked and touched Peter’s knees with his hands. “Jealous little shit,” he laughed and felt his heart melt a little as Peter smiled obviously relieved and a little bit embarrassed.  
Reaching under the boy’s knees, Killian pulled him forward so he could wrap his arms around the lithe body and press his cheek onto the boy’s flat chest without forcing him to stand up. He could feel his chest rise with every breath he took and if he’d move a little to the other side he would be able to listen to his heartbeat. Inclined to do exactly that, he felt fingers playfully pulling at his hair. Peter smirked when their gazes met and leaned forward to breathe against his lips. “ _Lock the door…_ ” he whispered and spread his legs seductively purposely planting dirty images inside his head.

He wanted to wipe his documents and pens off his desk, wanted to rip the boy’s new blue jeans, he had bought some weeks ago, off his alluring white thighs to take him then and there pressing his hand onto his mouth to muffle his moans while Peter would do the same to keep him just as quiet. His desire was overwhelming for he missed touching and kissing him more than anything, but just as he was about to reach for his slender hips he paused.  
All they did was _fuck_ , for not even he dared to call it anything different, anything more _decent_.  
It hurt him that he treated the boy like the whore even Peter thought he was. He wasn’t, not here at least sitting on his desk and kissing the corner of Killian’s mouth. The next time he touches him it should be in a loving way. Instead of fucking him, he wanted to make love to him: kiss and caress his porcelain skin and map every inch of his body to be remembered for the oncoming future. Killian didn’t want to treat him like a whore ever again no matter how much he ached to sink into his tight heat.

“I- I should get back to work,” he stuttered and softly shoved the boy off him, “and so do you.”  
Peter seemed disappointed, but he didn’t give up just yet as he slid from the desk to kneel between Killian's thighs, already reaching for his belt. Heat was rising in his body as he grasped the boy’s small hands to keep him from continuing. As much as he wanted to feel his full reddish lips wrapped around his (undeniably) hardening cock, he couldn’t let him do that – _not like this_.

“What’s the matter?” he cheekily grinned, though, Killian could see the unease in his face; “I am perfectly hidden and I already know how to make you come _really_ fast.”  
His voice was low and suggestive and Killian swallowed for he knew exactly what this demon could do with his tongue.  
“Don’t,” he whispered hoarsely and softly shook his head. “I already told you: ‘you’re not a whore, Peter; not to me.’ So please stop that. I want you, but not like this. I want you properly. Not like some random fuck, more like…”

_Like what?_

Names were rushing through his head, like _boyfriend_ or _lover_ ; but he couldn’t bring himself to voice such terms since he had no clue if Peter considered this to be a relationship or not. He wished he did— _hoped_ he did.

“Like…?” Peter asked carefully, but Killian just stared at him unable to answer properly; “Like a boyfriend?”

That particular expression sounded strange, alien even, and the way he pronounced it was unsure and sarcastic as if he was ready to laugh it off if Killian negated; though, in reality he was relieved about the boy being braver than him. Smiling he cupped Peter’s cheeks and indicated him to rise to his feet again. Slowly he stood up, still wearing that blank mask with the faked half-grin.

“Yes,” he said stroking the boy’s soft cheek as the grin vanished to be replaced by a beaming smile, “exactly like that.”

Killian didn’t love her. He really didn’t.

She probably didn't either, but still nobody had to know whose lips he was kissing when nobody was there to see.


End file.
